Married to a Monster

Chapter 2

My head hurt like hell.

Also, I was desperately thirsty.

For the first time in my life, I woke up feeling like this. Interesting. What had I done yesterday? Had someone hit me on the head? What was going on? Something very important spun at the edge of my thoughts. I couldn’t be in this condition for no reason.

Andrey!

I sat up sharply and immediately regretted it, because dizziness and nausea rolled over me hard, interfering with my ability to think.

No. I had to remember. What happened yesterday?

Oh, right. What happened was the thing that happened always and everywhere, while everyone believed they were the exception.

My boyfriend dumped me.

No—betrayed me.

I was the one who left.

What if, from the very beginning, that entire relationship had been a rather poorly planned scam? For what? A one-room apartment? Seriously? Yes, it was new. Yes, the neighborhood was decent. But there was nothing extraordinary about it. There were plenty of apartments like that around. So why?

Maybe that was why I had gotten drunk yesterday until colored circles danced in front of my eyes. Or was that the light show? I had tried either to drown my grief in alcohol or to find answers in it.

Judging by my wretched condition, neither had worked.

It had definitely been a bad idea.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to drive away the irritating dizziness by shaking my head…

Oh, you i***t. What a terrible choice.

I could have continued scolding myself if not for the persistent desire to embrace a toilet.

What did people do with a hangover this bad? Drank mineral water and took a pill. Which one? Brain, think faster.

Aspirin!

That was it. I needed an aspirin tablet. Urgently. And a contrast shower. That was supposed to help with dizziness. And water. It didn’t even have to be mineral water. Just water. Lots of water.

Where was my beloved shower?

I stood up and froze for a second.

Excuse me, good people, but where the hell was I?

I didn’t think I had gotten so drunk yesterday that I should wake up in a completely unfamiliar place.

Or had I?

Fresh hay, stacked in bales all around me. Only now did the unmistakable scent of dry grass hit my nose, soothing my agitated consciousness.

“Will you go?” — “I’ll go.”

A fragment of conversation surfaced in my memory.

Well, hello there. And where exactly had I gone? Into a “new life”? Well done, Asya, you arrived. Sign here, please.

And where had I been taken? Sold into p**********n? Though it didn’t look like a brothel. Hay didn’t fit the aesthetic.

I started to get nervous, but suddenly, just as abruptly, calmed down.

Madness? Wasn’t that what I had wanted? Surely my strength, knowledge, and desire would be enough to get me out of the… ahem… those adventures I had managed to get myself into.

Had I wished for everything to change?

I had.

Had it come true?

It had.

And if not quite the way I’d imagined—well, wishes should be worded more precisely.

The headache eased a little. I suddenly wanted to lean back onto the fragrant haystack—had I slept on it?—and laugh with delight. Those almost-forgotten feelings from distant childhood, when you didn’t have to live by the rules, didn’t have to gnaw a scrap of happiness out of fate for yourself.

And what, had I gnawed it out?

No.

So let that whole “proper” life go straight to hell.

I suddenly realized I was terribly tired of living “as one should,” and apparently that was why yesterday, once and for all, I had decided to do at least a tiny bit of “as I want.”

Nodding to my own thoughts, my very “determined” self headed toward the exit of the hayloft.

The wooden doors swung open—by the way, the hinges were well-oiled and didn’t creak—revealing a piercing blue sky, the murmur of people, the shouts of playing children, and birdsong.

Tears of nostalgia sprang to my eyes.

My hometown, of course, seemed like a village to other people, with its private brick houses, vegetable gardens, livestock—almost the same as here. Except that now, this really was a village. The kind it must have been in old Rus’. Dark logs, damp with moisture, forming sturdy houses—I think they were called log cabins. Wooden fences separating animal pens. Green grass growing over earth that had never known asphalt. A narrow dusty path leading from the hayloft—people came here often. The height of haymaking season?

A rooster with a fiery tail strutted past me at a leisurely pace.

I froze again.

No, of course, given where I came from, I had seen live chickens, roosters, cows, and goats. My childhood had passed in attempts to escape the duty of herding poultry. But this one looked as if it had stepped straight out of a children’s illustration—bright, colorful.

Was I still drunk?

I had heard that under certain substances the world seemed several times brighter, but I was perfectly aware of everything. I doubted there was anything in my body right now besides alcohol toxins.

I looked more carefully at the world around me.

No, it wasn’t the rooster that was special. The world itself looked as if someone had put it under LSD.

Interesting.

I hoped I hadn’t become a drug addict after all.

From somewhere around the corner, a guy emerged, covered in grass, a pitchfork in his hands.

“Oh, you’re awake already?”

“You?” I stared at his familiar face in shock.

It was the very same guy I had ended my improvised drinking session with. The one who had made me that offer. So I had come here with him? Oh, Mommy, I hoped my brain hadn’t produced anything I would later be deeply ashamed of.

“Me.” He smiled. “By the way, my name is Ivan. So, do you still want to change your life? Or was that just the booze talking?”

“Do I have options?” My smile came out a little nervous. “At this point, either I’ve gone insane, or you drugged me with something, or I’ve already gotten myself into something that changed my life irreversibly. Which option is correct? Where am I?”

“The village of Graninskaya,” Ivan said, baring his teeth in satisfaction. “The Right Borderlands of the Mirsky Forest.”

“All right. One of my insane theories does fit reality,” I muttered quietly. “I hope everything won’t be as bad as it could be.”

“You’re not surprised?” Apparently he had expected a somewhat different reaction than mild thoughtfulness.

“Hey, don’t think I’m dumber than I am.”

What, did he take me for a total fool? Fine, I would explain to this individual that Anastasia—that is, me—hadn’t gone to school for nothing and did know how to think. Drinking and Andrey didn’t count. Everyone had moments.

“Point one. You offered to change my life. I agreed. Point two: there is no Mirsky Forest or village of Graninskaya on the map of Russia, trust me, I studied geography well. Point three: I couldn’t have been taken anywhere overnight. And you wouldn’t have had time to drug me with sleeping pills and transport me to another country, considering I clearly feel the symptoms of a hangover, which, if more than a day had passed, would have already ended. And finally, point four. I don’t believe in superheroes, which means I cannot explain the brightness of this world by super-vision suddenly appearing out of nowhere. Conclusion? Either I am under some kind of drug—which, honestly, does not please me as a theory, and the sensations are almost absent anyway; it doesn’t work like that…”

“Or?”

“Or…” My throat suddenly went dry, betraying the insane but more realistic version. “…I’m in another world.”

“You are not under any drug,” Ivan said with a sly smile, waiting for my reaction.

All right, Asya, calm down. Deep inhale. Deep exhale.

“I knew it!” My eyes opened wider against my will, trying to memorize every moment.

The clean air filled my lungs with oxygen and my blood with adrenaline—what else could explain that unprecedented surge in a situation where I probably should have been… I don’t even know… scared? Crying? Trying to get home?

“And this doesn’t surprise you?” Vanya looked slightly puzzled. I didn’t feel like calling him by his full name—too official and boring.

“It surprises me, of course. One thing is reading about people who fall into other worlds in books. Another is becoming that very hero yourself. Admit it, not everyone wants to find themselves in Ivanushka’s place in a fairy tale. However, if you explain to me the process of my otherworld displacement, the reasons for it, and the possible developments, I will be very grateful,” I rattled off without thinking too hard about the words.

That happened to me when I was nervous. The reason usually didn’t matter.

“Usually everyone shrieks, sobs, and begs to be taken back,” Vanya snorted.

“I’m not everyone. I have nothing left to lose.”

“I see.” He sighed and waved toward a broad log lying nearby. “All right, let’s sit. I’ll tell you everything, since I’m the one who dragged you here.”

Vanya sat on the improvised bench. I, meanwhile, gave in to a mad feeling of permissiveness toward myself and plopped straight down onto the grass.

A thought flashed through my head that my blue jeans would turn green.

But… Ow! Who even cared anymore?

The sky was bright blue. The air smelled of herbs and warm wood heated by the sun. All my problems gradually peeled away from my thoughts like husks.

Well, damn. I had a new life. I would live it the way I wanted. Without the stupid rules of a gray society. Just me, my principles tested over the years, and a tiny drop of madness—the kind that makes us commit thoughtless, but sometimes very important, acts.

“Will you continue?” I asked, unable to tear my eyes away from the view.

We were sitting on a small hill now. Quite close by, it turned out, was the edge of a bright forest. From here I could see slender birches barely swaying their branches in a light breeze. Also nearby, just a little off to the side, a cheerful little river flowed. Clear children’s voices rang out from it. The kids were having fun. Beyond the river lay a field. One edge of it came very close to the forest. Part of the land rippled with yellow-green wheat, while another part was green—apparently that section had been left for hay. And closer still…

Colorful scarves, like tongues of flame, fluttered across the surface of the field.

Women.

Men and boys—even the children, almost all of them—ran around shirtless. It was hot.

Such peace reigned inside me that it even seemed strange all these feelings could fit inside one person.

“Well then…” Vanya snorted at his own thoughts and settled more comfortably. “I’ll start from afar. In the world, there are many worlds—sorry for the tautology. Some are good, some are hideous, and in some worlds there’s roughly equal measure of both. Into some you can stroll as if you were coming home. Into others you have to force your way. And into certain ones, it’s better never to end up at all.

“Few sentient beings sincerely believe in other worlds. Even fewer can pass between them. And only the chosen can return. Every world has its own laws, its own rules. Make one mistake, do something against the laws of the World, and you will never return home again.

“What if your world is filled with oxygen for breathing, and you accidentally fall into a water world? What if the gates you passed through only open from that side? You would have to choke on water, knowing there was no way back, knowing no one would save you. Simply because they wouldn’t have time, wouldn’t understand what you needed. Admit it, that’s frightening.”

“Very,” I said, shivering off goosebumps.

“Exactly. But there are worlds where people know about such journeys, study them, try to control movements, and so on. Our world—by the way, it’s called Arlen—is one of them. Look around. A village. We don’t have everything cities have, but even we can travel between worlds. Not all of them, yes. We have only a wooden pass. But still, we can.

“And now a little closer to the point. Our village is called Graninskaya for a reason. Gran, the edge between worlds.” He stretched his hand toward the forest edge, clearly visible from where we sat. “There is the Mirsky Forest. You can guess why it’s called that, right? Again, the Forest of Worlds.

“In truth, everything is much simpler and less grandiose. The center of the forest originally intersected with the center of all worlds—the World of Chaos. In every other respect, it’s an ordinary forest with mushrooms, berries, and so on. We live well here. Very well, actually. The closeness of the Edge makes itself felt. But one must pay for that privilege.

“The World of Chaos is the heart of all gates. Those we are used to hearing about in myths, legends, and fairy tales live there. They demand payment. Every year, we give one person to the forest. And there, that person is taken.”

“Why do I have the vague suspicion that the payment is me?”

“Yes.” A flicker of guilt passed through Vanya’s eyes. “But don’t be afraid. We have guarantees that none of the people given away are killed, sacrificed, and so on. For the most part, they live well. As far as we can judge, anyway. It depends on whom you end up with.”

“And why do they need people?”

“To marry a monster, of course.” He snorted. “Admit it, the same Leshy—who looks like an ancient old man covered in leaves, roots, grass, and so on—has a very difficult time finding himself a wife. And there are quite a few like him. As far as I know, the Vodyanoy is next in line.”

“Is he very scary?” Better to know in advance what to prepare for.

“Well, if the guides are to be believed, there’s little pleasant about him. Though what in all those rumors is true and what isn’t, I can’t say.”

“What rumors?”

“Some say he has seaweed instead of hair, scales on his body, fins, and a tail. Others say his skin is like a toad’s—gray-green, webbing between his fingers, bulging eyes. There are lots of rumors like that. I’m afraid at least some of it must be true.”

“Right. So basically either a fish-man or a human-sized toad-man. No one considered the merman option?”

“Uh, no, but you’ve just given me a new idea!” Vanya laughed.

“So you’re the one spreading all those rumors!” I shoved his leg with a laugh. “Couldn’t you tell the sacrifice something more interesting? You don’t have to scare me!”

“No.” He smiled sadly. “Until my beloved is not given to the forest, I will spread rumors and steal people from other worlds. And I am not the only one. One of the rules of our World is love once and forever. If you love, then it is forever. It is impossible to stop loving. The only advantage is that love is always mutual. So forgive me. You’re good, you aren’t even trying to run or kill me after learning everything, but you will go into the forest, and my Lana will stay with me.”

I sighed.

There was little pleasant about it, but at least it was honest. Vanya loved, and he was loved. Without lies or deceit. That was good, wasn’t it?

Who knew—maybe Earth had never truly been my world, since I had never managed to find my place there. No, everything had been fine, but I had always known that if I took even one wrong step, all my efforts would crumble to dust.

Arlen wasn’t mine either. A village was very good. Like childhood. Only the sharp ache of nostalgia for what had gone would never let me live calmly and happily. And besides, they were sending me into the forest.

So maybe the Vodyanoy would not turn out to be so frightening. Maybe the World of Chaos would put my head in order.

Who knew?

And I no longer wanted to look back and regret the past.